


Silent Deductions

by Srynxii



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Doctor John, Drabble, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sick!Sherlock, Sickfic, sneezefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-22 20:07:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3742009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Srynxii/pseuds/Srynxii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a quiet afternoon at 221B Baker street and while John would normally take delight in it, He finds himself becoming concerned at just how quiet it really is. Sherlock seems to have come down with something and is surprisingly giving in to his transport. Drabble, mostly fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Almost unheard of

_Ish._

John paused mid-sentence to curl down the corner of the newspaper to look around the flat. He had thought he heard something but it was so quiet that he began to wonder if he’d imagined it. After a cursory glance of the sitting room, his gaze fell upon the sofa and his brow furrowed in confusion.

At some point Sherlock had ceased maintenance of his mind palace and seemed to have fallen asleep. Instead of his usual position – on his back with his hands steepled beneath his chin- he was on his side facing the back cushions with his arms wrapped around the union jack pillow.

John smiled and shook his head, he’d never seen Sherlock fall asleep without some sort of fight and here he was cat napping like it was nothing out of the ordinary.

He turned his attention back to the newspaper and managed a couple more sentences until he heard it again. Twice.  
_Ish. Ha-ish._

This time he looked up in time to see a still-sleeping Sherlock scrub his nose with the back of his hand before it disappeared between the pillow and the sofa.

Again John’s brow furrowed but this time he also folded the newspaper and set it on the side table before getting to his feet and quietly making his way to the sofa.

He looked down at the sleeping consulting detective and began to make some deductions of his own, starting with the quiet snuffling that indicated slight congestion and intermittent shivers that ran through his friend’s body coupled with the flush high on his cheeks which meant fever. 

Sherlock stirred slightly as his lips parted and he crinkled his nose a moment before another of those quiet sneezes worked its way out.  
_Hish._

**Aw, look what you've managed to do** , John thought to himself as he unfolded the blanket on the back of the sofa and draped it over the sleeping man.  
He made a mental note to bring up the need to take care of oneself again to Sherlock, despite its futility, and proceeded into the kitchen to make some tea and see if he could find some cold tablets.

Despite Sherlock’s habit of borrowing things – without asking and without replacing said items- from his kit, John was able to find a half full packet of cold tablets and an unopened bottle of cough syrup which he tucked under his arm as he wrestled the medical bag shut and nudged it back into the closet gently with his foot.

With a glance at the sleeping detective, he tiptoed back into the kitchen and set the medicine down on the table so he could get a couple of mugs ready for when the kettle boiled.  
_HngSSSH! KiSSH!_  
“Bless”, John muttered under his breath, even though Sherlock was likely still asleep and wouldn't appreciate the sentiment anyway if he weren't. Probably.

Come to think of it, he hadn't ever even heard so much as a hiccup come from the man and until this afternoon he wasn't even sure it were possible for the great Sherlock Holmes to get a case of the sniffles.  
His thoughts were punctuated by a low moan from the sitting room followed by a series of those quiet, wet sneezes that has him abandoning the kettle that had just begun to boil.  
_huh-Essh! He-issh! ISSH! Hae-huh… Eh-Hisshuh!_

John advances across the room as he watches Sherlock drag himself into a sitting position, his face still buried in the crook of his arm.  
**“Alright?”** he ventures as he rips a handful of tissues out of the box on the coffee table and hands them to his friend. Sherlock accepts the offering and with a shuddering breath proceeds to try feebly to clear the congestion.

Concern washes over John’s features as Sherlock lifts his eyes to look up at him and finds them tired-looking and without their usual manic gleam.  
Sherlock clears his throat and shakes his head slightly, looking defeated and worn and highly embarrassed.


	2. Please, let me help.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock must be feeling poorly if he's willing to acquiesce to John's request of letting him evaluate the ailing consulting detective.

There was a moment or two of silence while John debated the merits of starting in on his “getting Sherlock to take better care of himself” campaign before remembering the tea.  
“One moment, I’ll be right back”.

Sherlock merely nodded and snuffled into the tissues again as John beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen. After some clattering around John reappeared by his side and extended one of the mugs out to the sick man and then took a seat on the edge of the coffee table, setting his tea to the side to cool.

“Look, I know what you’re going to say but just indulge me and let me have a look, okay?” John offered as he searched Sherlock’s face for signs of petulance. Instead what he found was an obvious struggle of mind over matter, one which his friend was rapidly losing. 

With a sigh he pulled another handful of tissues out of the box and swapped them out with the tea as Sherlock’s breathing became very rapid and broken as he geared up for another fit.  
“Here”.

_Heh’eshuh! K’Esh! Heh… HiSSHew!_

“Ble... Uh, sorry. Alright?” John’s concern deepened when Sherlock blew his nose and breathed out a weary sigh, leaning back against the couch cushions looking as if, with the tickle, his energy had emptied out into the soiled tissues. 

Once he was able to compose himself, Sherlock cleared his throat and straightened up as best he could on the couch, giving John a much watered down version of The Look. 

“I don’t see how it could make anything worse”, he said and gestured to himself in what was clearly a challenge of “Do your worst”.

“Oh, right” John said lamely as he leaned forward and placed the back of his hand to Sherlock’s forehead and then shifted down to compare the heat to his cheek. 

John clicked his tongue and began to feel along his friend’s neck, checking lymph nodes and not being surprised by the subtle crinkle on Sherlock’s nose when he touched upon a sensitive spot. 

“Sore throat, mild fever, sneezing… anything else?”, he asked quietly, his eyes flickering up to meet the consulting detective, expecting to be ignored or degraded for being such a mother hen but the consulting detective was strangely compliant with forfeiting the information. 

“Sli- _heh_... Slight headache and chills”, came the wavering reply, followed by a wet sniffle and a blind grab for more tissues.

John slid the box closer to him and catalogued the pallor of his friend’s complexion and the tired way he brought up the folded paper to cover his mouth and nose. **At least he has some sense not to be spreading his germs around** , he thought as the detective turned away slightly to sneeze again.

_Heh’esh! K’ISH!_

“It only started today and already I wish it were over” Sherlock muttered with a wince at the sound of his voice, it was becoming raw and threadbare like the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. 

John felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth as his heart clenched at the surprisingly forward confession and reached out to brush some of the errant curls off his friend's forehead.  
"Don't worry, I'll get you all sorted".

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've ever really written anything about a fandom that I actually liked. I find the whole idea that instead of being a noisy, disobedient patient, Sherlock realizes that in order to get back to The Work he simply has to let his transport heal itself. 
> 
> I'm really nervous about posting this, so be kind.


End file.
